SCARLETT
The night tasted of iron.
I woke before dawn to the scent a faint, metallic whisper that threaded through the chill air of my chamber. The triune mark beneath my collarbone throbbed, not with heat this time, but with a low, warning pulse.
Kael was already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, bare shoulders catching the dim firelight. His eyes burned like banked embers.
“You smell it too,” I said.
He nodded once. “Blood. Close.”
A flash of lightning lit the corridor outside Darius, striding toward us, storm crackling in his wake. Behind him, shadows rippled like smoke as Lucien stepped soundlessly through the door.
“We have a problem,” Darius said, voice sharp as a blade.
In the Council courtyard, silver dawn stretched thin over a field of crimson.
Five Crescent Veil sc
